I Saw an Angel Die
by scousemuz1k
Summary: Inspired by a song, my lurid Halloween tale. Abby's nightmare, and NOT a death-fic.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: This is seriously AU for me, OK, downright lurid... I had this weird idea, maybe six months ago now, listening to a golden oldies program, and I thought, "I'll never write that, it's too far-out." **

**I told the idea to Angel of Clay, who said "Write it for Halloween," which I thought was a brilliant idea, so thanks for that, Angel! This is for you. Or, all your fault.**

**Title and inspiration from Bobbie Gentry's song, but not a song fic.**

**Mention of the lovely Kath Wigg, from some of my previous stories. If you've not come across her before, she and Gibbs have an occasional... thing.**

I Saw an Angel Die

by scousemuz1k

The demon breathed heavily, grunting, gurgling and snorting. It was lame, and tormented by unceasing fire, daggers driving into its brain, but it had a destiny to fulfil. Ahead of it the angel ran, stumbled, staggered, and the demon slowly closed in on it. Among the dark, windy trees the blood-splashed figure of light was easy to see, and the demon howled its rage as it drew closer. The angel's wings beat feebly, but couldn't raise it from the ground, and the demon was upon it. The angel didn't resist, and the demon laughed in triumph and scorn. It snarled, and tore, and slashed – only death on its mind –

Abby sat bolt upright with a long, tearing gasp, and stared around her dark bedroom, still seeing the images of her nightmare floating on dim walls of shadow. She hugged the quilt and rocked back and forth, crying and moaning softly. This time... this time the dream had been worse... the worst it had ever appeared. Faces... of good and evil... faces of her friends... she switched the light on and tried to banish the pools of darkness... shadows that were usually her friends clawed at her like the demon clawed at the angel. She mewed helplessly... the angel had Tony's face... the demon... no... no... the demon was _Gibbs._

NCISNCISNCIS

Tony stood still, looking thoughtfully down at the corpse at his feet. Jimmy went quietly about his job, bearing the scene with fortitude, much like his friend. This was weird, the Italian was thinking. Gibbs didn't believe in coincidences, but what else could this be, for freak's sake?

Jimmy looked up. "First findings indicate your theory was correct," he said formally, until Tony shook himself out of his reverie and raised an eyebrow that said 'really, Jim?' "All right, all right, you thought right. He didn't die here; he was dumped. Clear lack of blood considering the number of wounds; it's reasonable to assume that he bled out somewhere else, but of course I'll know more later." He paused. "Here's something rather strange though..." and Tony bit down on his desire to say 'yes, Dr. Mallard?' "Settlement also says he's been moved, but it suggests that he died in a very strange position. On his knees, his arms hanging at his sides, left shoulder jammed up against something, and leaning forward with his face pressed up against some flat surface, with a deep vertical groove."

Tony hunkered down, and looked closely at the bruising that Jimmy showed him; he'd seen enough over the years to make him agree at once. "Maybe a door? This –" he indicated the vertical mark that Jimmy had been very observant to spot on the ravaged face – "would be the crack between the door and the frame? I'd ask if he was trying to get out, but there are no marks on his hands."

Jimmy nodded. "Unlike just about everywhere else. He's covered in bruises, Tony. Both Gibbs and Dr. Mallard are always telling me never to assume, but if it weren't for the lack of damage to his hands, I'd say the pattern of cuts suggests self-infliction. With parallel instruments, like finger-nails."

"But what finger-nails could cause damage like that? They'd have to be claws. What about these marks? Was he tied up?"

Jimmy lifted the dead man's wrist. "Some sort of constriction, but broad, like a strap, not a rope. You'll find out," he finished confidently.

Tony knelt there for a while, thinking about coincidences, as Jimmy watched him in puzzlement, until a voice said sharply, "Ya going to move any time soon, DiNozzo?"

The SFA didn't react with any sort of surprise, even if the tone of voice suggested he was slacking; _always be aware of your surroundings even when you're having some truly odd thoughts... _"Oh, Hi Boss... just thinking here." He rose fluidly to his feet. "D'ya think maybe I should always stand up to think? Maybe I'll fall over with the effort when I'm crouching down. Dr. Palmer there's just had some very interesting thoughts -"

"DiNozzo..." Gibbs said almost soothingly; he'd caught the reproachful edge in Tony's voice. He hadn't actually meant to imply Tony wasn't pulling his weight, and anyway, comments like that usually rolled off the Italian like green peas escaping from a fork. "Somethin' bothering ya?"

"Hah, Boss, I'm fine. Just didn't sleep so well, is all. I'll go see if any of the guys on the taxi rank saw anything." He loped away, and Gibbs watched him go with a slight frown, then turned to Jimmy.

"So, _Doctor _Palmer..." The newly fledged MD allowed himself a warm glow at the approval behind the Marine's seemingly mocking tone.

NCISNCISNCIS

Didn't sleep well... you bet he didn't. After calming a semi-hysterical Abby down over the phone, Tony had of course not taken her at her word when she said she didn't need him to come over, and twenty minutes later he'd been there.

"_Me... an **angel**, Abs? Come on..." he'd spoken into her hair as she clung to him frantically. "C'mon, over here, sit down... I'll make a hot drink." She muttered something into his chest. "No... you can** not** have a CafPow. Mmm? I don't care if I do sound like your big brother. I **am** your big brother."_

She'd still been trembling from head to foot. When he'd got her steady, she'd told him every detail of the dream she'd had; details like the parallel slash marks on the demon's own body, great long bloody ones on its thighs. Gashes to its cheeks – caused by its own long claws, as if it had tried to tear its own face off. Details like the white clothing of the angel splattered with vivid red blood, its wings thrashing ineffectually as it tried to rise... _so_ OTT, Tony had thought, but it had taken Abby apart – so after his original derision he wasn't going to laugh.

"_I still wonder why your subconscious would put me as the victim... or more importantly, Gibbs as the monster. You love him... you don't see him like that."_

"_I know, Tony. That's why it was so bad..."_

He'd stayed there, lying on her bed and cuddling her until it was time for them both to go to work, and although they'd dozed, you couldn't have called it sleeping. But he'd been instructed not to tell Gibbs, and he hadn't been going to anyway... so here he was, feeling like a dishevelled and bad tempered hedgehog, getting half a dozen variations on a theme of 'didn't see a thing' from the taxi drivers.

They'd caught this case late in the day; it had been quiet up until after lunch, and he'd hoped it'd stay that way; maybe he'd do pizza and a movie with Abby tonight and make her feel a bit better; see she got a decent night's sleep. She loved Halloween, but she always did seem to get a bit fey in the build-up to it.

He made his way back across the grass to the crime scene, where Jimmy and his temporary assistant were about to take the murdered sailor away, looking round casually to see who was rubbernecking. Dog walkers, (they'd spoken to them,) the taxi drivers of course, from a distance... passers by, who hurriedly did just that. There was the guy who drove the park's mower, and who'd found the body. His machine stood idling at a distance, belching out gasoline exhaust, the smell of it overpowering the much more pleasant aroma of newly cut grass.

The guy himself smelled of sweat and ganja, and looked like an overweight Hell's Angel wannabe in a leather jacket too hot for the day, with a design even Abby would have thought over the top. As Tony drew closer, he heard the man telling Gibbs in dire tones, "No, I didn't see nothin' unusual. Except the body. The taxi drivers... they're Latinos..." as if that made them all weird. "They say there's a bad spirit haunts these parts..." It was a good job he heard that bit, and had time to compose himself before the guy went on ghoulishly, "a _demon_. Not the first time someone's died around here at the hands of a slasher. A demon with claws... that slashes its victims to pieces."

"Demon my ass," Gibbs said shortly. "Think sick minded human who hurts people for fun." He walked away, feeling the venomous glare the man sent after him across his shoulders, and not giving a shit about it.

Tony had his cell phone out instantly. Gibbs shot him a look; he knew exactly who his SFA was calling at Metro PD. The Italian answered him with a broad grin; and while he had the phone in his hand he took a picture of Mr. Lawnmower Ghoul. He'd already got the taxi drivers, and as many of the dog walkers as possible; where they were too far distant he'd still snapped the dogs.

By the time they returned to the Yard, Kath Wigg had come up trumps; there were two other cases that possibly matched their sailor. A longshoreman at the commercial docks had been found dumped in the same area ten weeks ago; the parallel gashes all over him had been thought to have been caused by the multiple hooks on a bar that stevedores used to lift crates. Another docker with a history of violence and a beef with the dead man was awaiting trial, protesting his innocence.

The other was from about a month ago; and over the state line into Maryland; something that Kath had insisted on after her promotion to Captain was that the sharing and collating of information between the many police departments in the area should be of the highest possible standard.

A young construction worker had left the site he was working at after a late shift and was walking to his car. He'd been jumped by a shadowy figure emerging from a dark corner, that slashed wildly at him and repeatedly hissed 'No such thing...' The young man was strong, and fought his attacker off, his yells soon attracting his workmates, and the figure had run. He hadn't a clue why he'd been attacked or what the words meant, but he had parallel slashes on his arms, chest and back, which he said burned like fire. When his injuries were treated, it was discovered that the weapon had been coated with formic acid. He'd made a good recovery, and was back at work.

"Need the evidence from Metro," Gibbs said abruptly, getting up from his chair.

Tony just gave his Boss that grin again. Grin? Leer... "Say hello to Kath from me," he said in a cheerful undertone.

"I'm going for _coffee,_ DiNozzo," Gibbs growled.

"I know that, Boss... but won't you want to collect the file from the other case, and the physical evidence from Metro while you're about it? There's a really good coffee shop in Indiana avenue... practically opposite the door..." Gibbs growled something unintelligible and stomped out.

Tim set out to track the movements of the murdered sailor, and to ensure that if there were any reports of large amounts of spilled blood being discovered they'd be told. Ziva studied witness statements to look for discrepancies. Tony looked up Mr. Lawnmower Ghoul, for no particular reason other than his gut, and found him unremarkable in every way. A parks and gardens employee without a stain on his character. He huffed, and under the genuine guise of discovering more about formic acid, went down to see Abby.

"How ya doin', babe?"

"Tony... I don't know who that was an impression of, but it was pretty bad."

"Guess it must have been if you don't know who it was."

"So who was it?"

He looked innocent. "No idea," he said, and got the laugh he'd been hoping for. "So... you look strained, Abs. How _are_ you doing?"

Abby frowned, searching for the words. "Not... not peaceful. I've not had a CafPow all day, I feel so wound up. I keep having that dream, Tony! I keep having it and it keeps getting worse. Dreams _mean _something... I'm afraid! She grabbed his upper arms and rubbed her thumbs over his biceps. "I'm worried about you, and I'm worried about Gibbs. He killed you! In the dream, he _killed_ you, Tony!"

"I know, Abs... but could you see the real Gibbs killing me – uh-oh, don't answer that one..."

She pushed her face into his shoulder, and her muffled voice said plaintively, "Not funny, Tony!"

"Yeah... well, he's gone to see Kath Wigg; he's out of harm's way for the moment."

Abby pushed herself away from him. "What? You let him go off somewhere by himself? Tony, what were you thinking of? You mustn't let him out of your sight!"

Now it was Tony's turn to frown. "Well... apart from the fact that once Kath's name was mentioned there was no way he was going to take company, if it's me he's going to kill, _isn't _he out of harm's way if I'm not with him?"

"Call him."

"No way. Not if he's with Kath. You call him." She glared. "OK... tell me about formic acid, and I'll find an excuse to text him."

"Why d'you want to know about formic acid?"

Tony took her gently by the shoulders, and told her about the slasher.

NCISNCISNCIS

"You always let it get to you too much, man..."

"But he said it! He said 'demon my ass'! He doesn't believe!"

"You gonna take care of him like the others, though, aren't you?"

The room was dark, and smelled pretty ripe; sweat, ganja, and blood. The floor was damp, and a hosepipe was coiled near the door. A couple of candles illuminated the clutter, a strange hotchpotch of collected items. There were voodoo dolls, black candles, a few animal skulls that Lawnmower Ghoul had found in the park, an eyeless rabbit's head... A psychiatrist would have said this was the lair of someone who had an imagination and a yearning towards black magic, but didn't have the first idea, and lacked the drive to do the research. They'd have been right.

On one wall, painted direct onto the rough wood of the shed, was a picture, about four foot square, dimly lit by the candles. It was well executed; the painter had some skill. An angel lay on the ground, a tangle of wings and limbs; a demon stood above it, poised for the kill, howling its triumph at a black, fire-filled sky.

Lawnmower Ghoul took the roach that his friend passed him, and drew deeply, gazing up at his own work adoringly.

"Man," his friend muttered irritably, (Tony would have recognised the third taxi driver he spoke to,) "If you'd worked at painting, you'd be rich and famous by now, not driving a mower for the district..."

Lawnmower Ghoul shrugged. "I ain't sharin' my inner soul with anyone, 'well, 'cept you. You still got stuff?"

"Sure," the taxi driver said, "left it in here for you." He pulled a drawer open; there was a plastic jar with a self-venting lid, some bee-keeping paraphernalia shoved to the back, and a couple of sharps in a hard plastic case with a transparent lid. The mower driver looked and smiled. He took out a cell phone.

"Special Agent Gibbs? You said to tell if I found stuff. Yeah, somethin'... a jacket... yah, blood. By the trees – by the drinking fountain. Yeah, I'll stay till you get here."

NCISNCISNCIS

The link was definitely there – Abby found that tissue samples taken from Seaman Arkin's wounds contained formic acid. She was deeply disturbed by what Tony had told her, and he stayed with her while she ran the tests.

While he waited, he contacted the pathologist at Metro PD to ask if any trace had been found on the murdered longshoreman. With the new information Dr Horton agreed to retest, and Tony called Kath's former sergeant, now Lieutenant Roy Fordham, since he didn't know the arresting officer, and didn't know how he'd take to the possibility of having the wrong man on remand.

"Ah, the delicacy of inter-agency diplomacy," he said airily, as he put his phone away.

Abby didn't smile. "Has Gibbs answered your text?"

"He doesn't know how to – he'd have to call, and no, he hasn't." He looked at his watch. "Five o'clock. Maybe he took Kath for a late lunch. I'll call him... Not picking up. I'll keep trying, and keep you posted, OK?"

"Tony..."

"I _will_. I'm going to see if McGee's got anything, Abs. I think we're close on this one." She just bit her lip and nodded, watching him go.

Truth was, he felt somewhat uneasy himself; Gibbs might put his phone in a jam-jar in his basement, but he wasn't usually unreachable during working hours.

There was an update on his desk when he got back; he read it and his blood ran cold. The young man in Maryland, contacted by Kath's team that morning, had recalled something. The evening before he was attacked, he'd got into a silly argument in a bar, with a guy who insisted demons existed. He'd told him there was no such thing.

His phone rang; it was Jimmy. Tony – I got the photos from both cases, and I'll tell you two things. All three men's wounds were caused by the same weapons; there were two of them. The gashes are parallel, but a docker's tool has the hooks evenly spaced. There weren't – I've measured the gaps – it was a pair of claws."

NCISNCISNCIS

"Make sure you fasten them tightly," Lawnmower Ghoul told Taxi-man, bending over the figure slumped unconscious at his feet.

"You always say that, man."

"Yeah, well, they've got to be like extensions of his hands... and they've not got to come off. Gimme the pot." Taxi-man passed the vented tub over; in it was a thick gel. He lifted one of the unconscious man's hands – it was encased in a glove that had long metal claws attached to the fingertips.

"Don't get it on your bare skin," Taxi-man said anxiously.

"Huh. _You_ always say that."

"Well, it burns, man!"

"Only if you've got cuts. Which he will have soon enough. The others always cut themselves." He smeared the grey gel on the claws of both gloves. "Hey... he's wakin' up... gimme the stuff."

Taxi-man passed the needle, and his friend stuck it in the slumped figure's neck like he knew what he was doing. The man struggled, and Lawnmower Ghoul pulled him up by his silver hair. He held his chin so he couldn't escape. "Look there," he told him as he opened eyes that struggled to focus; forcing him to look up at the painting. "You believe... there are demons... your brothers... you are a demon..." He nodded at his friend, who opened the shed door.

Light flooded in, and Gibbs screamed in pain as it lanced through his head. Two dark shadows stood against the light. "See," the shadow that had already spoken said happily, "Light's your enemy. All light things are your enemies. You are darkness." The light disappeared, and the demon was alone.

It curled up in the corner of its lair. It didn't remember why it had slept, it didn't remember what it had done before it slept. It whimpered with pain, and tried to clutch its head, but its claws got in the way. It scratched its cheekbone accidentally, and screamed again at the fiery pain that flared.

Its head was full of hellish noise, its vision distorted into grotesque patterns and shapes in the dimness, and its whole body was out of control. It tried to stand up, but its flopping, tangled limbs wouldn't obey it; it fell back against a wall of its lair, and looked up at the picture of its brother.

The clearest thing in the darkness was the white figure of the angel; it was tangled on the ground just as he was. His brother demon stood over it... the angel had hurt him; his brother had killed the angel for him... That was the fate of demons and angels, to kill each other. The demon snarled and clawed at the picture. Angels must die...

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Thanks , ytteb, for that revolting picture – I wish I'd thought of that!**

**I've not been too specific about what they gave Gibbs – I don't know much about drugs, medical or otherwise. Now give me a nice antihistamine... anyway, I know nasty stuff exists, please fill in your own blanks.**

**Thank you those who weren't logged in, I couldn't reply personally, but I'm still grateful for your support!**

I Saw an Angel Die

Chapter 2

"McGee!" Tony snapped, and Tim looked up in surprise. His friend held out a placating hand. "Ack... Tim, find out where Gibbs is right now. Urgent. But don't call him..."

"I get it, he's with Lieutenant Wigg."

"And if anyone has to have the pleasure of interrupting him, it'd better be me." His desk phone shrilled.

"_DiNozzo! Where the hell is Gibbs? I've been sitting here for two hours waiting for him – doesn't he know better than to keep a lady waiting?"_

Tony decided not to alert Kath to his worries unless he needed her. There was no point in making her anxious for what could be nothing.

"I'm sorry, Kath, he's not got his cell phone... I'll call you when he gets in touch. Yeah, he gets through them like chocolate... bye."

Ziva put her desk phone down, and looked across at him. "What is wrong, Tony?"

"The Boss didn't turn up to meet Kath," he said slowly.

"You've just found that out? After you asked me to trace Gibbs?" Tony nodded. "So how -"

"My gut..." there was no smugness in his tone. He almost told them about Abby's dream... but there wasn't time to deal with whatever fall-out that might cause. Maybe later – when they'd found Gibbs. "What have we got? Starting with have you found him?" He'd found himself standing in front of the plasma screen without noticing how he'd got there, and the others came to join him; one either side in support. Tim took the remote.

"His car and his phone are a few hundred yards from today's crime scene. Metro are sending the nearest patrol vehicle."

Tony nodded, and told them what Jimmy had told him.

Ziva took the remote from Tim, and clicked up a picture of the injured construction worker. "The bar was called City Lights, in Silver Spring, not far from the construction site," she told them. "The proprietor remembers the argument, because the victim, Mr Stroud, did not say anything argumentative, merely that as far as he was concerned there were no such things as demons. The man he was speaking with took offence at that, and made a scene. The staff asked him to leave shortly afterwards; he was with a friend who left with him."

"Description?" Tony asked tersely.

"Overweight, long hair, mid thirties, biker gear. Tony -"

"I know, Zi. The guy who 'found' the body."

"Yes. The friend also 'carried too much weight', and was possibly Hispanic."

Tim joined them at the large screen, clicking the remote. "Cory Winter, age 38." Lawnmower Ghoul's driver's licence appeared on screen. "This is what you turned up earlier, Tony. Employee of the parks and gardens authority. I couldn't find a cell phone registered to him, but..." He clicked again, and shots of all the taxi drivers who'd been there this morning stacked up in rows. "If we take out all the non-Hispanic... and all the not overweight... we're left with these two. " He went back to his desk. "Gaspar Garcia is currently taking a fare to Ronald Reagan, but Ruben Casilas, according to _his_ cell phone, is off duty... in the same bar that Seaman Horton was drinking in last night." He was talking to Tony's back, as the three of them raced towards the stairs.

LEOs reported checking out Gibbs' sedan, but reported no sign of the driver. They could see the cell phone lying in the passenger foot-well, (as if it had been carelessly thrown on the seat and slid there when Gibbs did one of his manoeuvres, Tony thought). They didn't go to the vehicle, heading for Greene's bar instead, and stopping down the block.

"How do you want to do this, Tony? We do not know if they are both there."

"And if only Casilas is there, we've got to get him without alarming his buddy, wherever he is," Tim added. Tony nodded, and shrugged out of his jacket, tossing it back into the car. "McGee, take the back door." He hit speed-dial on his phone, and Tim's rang. "Keep it open. Ziva, once I'm in, block the front door." He looked seriously at each of them. "If they're armed, let them get outside before you take them." They both knew that, but neither one reproached him; it never hurt to be reminded of the dangers when innocent bystanders were about.

Tony loosened his elegant tie and unfastened the top button of the crisp, white D&G shirt, waited until Tim had disappeared round the back of the building, then sauntered into the bar, yabbering away vapidly. They only had to not recognise him long enough for him to alert the team... "Yeah, honey... I'm telling you, they're both there. You look out where I told you, you'll – "

Lawnmower Ghoul, sitting down at the end of the bar, tried to sneak past him on the right, but he stuck a foot out. The next thing the man knew, he was on his face, with Ziva's gun gently caressing his ear. Tony held up his badge as customers murmured and exclaimed, and a moment later the door from the kitchen opened. In classic movie style, Ruben Casilas came through it backwards, his hands in the air, looking down the muzzle of Tim's Sig.

Tony clapped his hands together once, hard. A few people jumped slightly. "That concludes the floor show, ladies and gentlemen... thank you and goodnight."

They drove the arrested men ahead of them, shoving them as roughly and intimidatingly as they could, stopping just short of police brutality, until they were into the side alley that led to the back entrance. This was for Gibbs, after all. They hadn't rehearsed in advance, but an onlooker would never have known it. Tim and Ziva slammed their prisoners, overweight bellies first, into the wall, and didn't speak, simply keeping the pressure on. Tony (the big boss who didn't lower himself to the physical stuff) released the safety catch on his Sig with an audible click, as he paced slowly behind them. "Where's Gibbs?" he asked pleasantly.

Winters tried bravado. "I don't know any Gibbs." Ziva put her knee behind his, and applied pressure to the tendon, and the guy squawked.

"You believe in demons," Tony said, still pleasantly. "You don't know _anything _until you've experienced an Israeli demon at work. I'm going to let her loose in a minute, and I don't care what she does. Where's Gibbs?" This time he aimed his gun at Casilas.

"I don't know!"

"Sure you do, and we're wasting time." He nodded toTim, who hooked the man's feet out from under him, and he landed on his backside. Ziva did something only she knew in the region of Winters' kidneys, and he yelled again, much louder. "Won't do you any good," he squeaked. "He's a demon by now..."

Ziva jerked his head back. "What did you do?" she hissed, but Winters just sniggered. "Didn't believe in demons... We got stuff..." Ziva stopped the insane giggling by making him yell instead, and Casilas gave in.

"The maintenance sheds! Near the cafe! The first one you come to – "

"Deal with these bastards, and call an ambulance," Tony said furiously. "They've given him something, no telling what state he's in. It's four blocks away, you go get the car." He turned away and set off at a frantic, pounding run.

NCISNCISNCIS

The demon was exhausted. One moment the energy shrieked through its veins in a poisonous fury, the next it vanished and knocked it on its back, to stare at the blackness above it, where demons worse than itself howled at it and reached down towards it with their claws. It slashed frantically at them, and its own talons met empty air. Sometimes the desperate lashing kept going and gashed its own body, and the cuts burned and seethed in a boiling fire.

Since it lived only in the moment, it had no memory of each previous mood and could not learn from it; each new surge of energy caused more injury: the demon's legs were a bloody mess. It clawed at the place where it knew the light came from; it knew that the light was deadly and must be avoided...it knew that getting to the light was the way to end the hell and the pain, and it could not make the two ideas match. It shrieked in rage and agony, banging its head against the wall, trying to escape the knives that pierced, and the inner noise that deafened it.

The wall boomed and reverberated, and the demon stopped with its head on one side; it hadn't made that sound... it came from where the light was, and the creature snarled. Another sound came; a sound it thought it knew, a sound it didn't need to fight. It couldn't be so... anything that came from the light was bad. Angels must die...

The light blazed into the lair without warning, tearing through the demon's brain more dreadfully than the knives already there. It screamed, and pressed palms to its head – it had learned, horribly, one thing at least, that it could not touch its head with its clawed fingers. Sound came out of the light, and it looked, unwillingly. In the centre of the light, silvery white, surrounded by gold, an angel stood. Angels must die...The demon roared and launched itself.

NCISNCISNCIS

It was dark by now, and most of the park wasn't lit after nightfall. He'd passed Gibbs' silent car, its front screen misting up with evening moisture and mute accusation, and his heart had lurched. What had they given him? Why hadn't it shown up in blood tests on the other victims? They'd have at least had some warning... Aaah, would it have done any good? The guy must have called Gibbs... damn, _damn_ the stupid-independent-cussed idiot for going without back-up... would he never _learn_?

The gates were locked; he clambered up the fence like a spider and vaulted down the other side. Any other time he'd be complaining, looking for the park custodian, and moaning about ruining his suit. Maintenance sheds... why hadn't he taken more notice this afternoon? Where – ah, one lonely lamp over there... orange-yellow and _bright_... good, they'd put one to discourage would be thieves, wouldn't they? From workshops...yes, this was it – the first one, the guy said... He stopped dead, chest heaving. What the hell...

The sound he heard was Gibbs voice... but nothing like he'd ever heard it. Oh God... Gibbs' voice, screaming like an animal... After standing shocked into stillness for a moment, he managed to frame a thought – well, hell, he was alive...

"Boss! Boss, I'm coming... hold on!" Padlocked. No... He lined his Sig up sideways on and pulled the trigger – he prayed not to be hit by a ricochet, but he was going to do it anyway. His prayer didn't exactly come true; the lock disintegrated and the whining bullet didn't hit him, but a piece of flying padlock thumped his left fore-arm._ Shee-ee-eet! _Never mind that... he tore the door open.

"Boss... thank God..."

Gibbs was crouched on the floor. Even looking into the darkness from the light, Tony could see the amount of blood – mostly on the outsides of his thighs, just as Abby had said. He saw the hideous claws lashed to the Boss's hands, and the gash on his face. Looking at all that in horror, he saw the crazed look in the other man's eyes too late. Looking down at his white shirt, he realised what he must look like. '_I saw an angel die' _- it was almost the first thing Abby had said when she'd phoned him. '_He __**killed **__you, Tony!' _"Boss..." Gibbs let out an inhuman yell and leapt at him.

NCISNCISNCIS

"That's that, then," Kath Wigg said, as two patrol cars took the prisoners. "We'll keep them until you send for them – although that one looks as if he needs a padded room, not a holding cell. Now, where do we find Gibbs?"

Tim was about to explain when a squeal of brakes made them all look round. Abby's crimson hot-rod bounced to a halt, and a goth windmill jumped out.

"Why didn't you _tell _me? I know something's wrong! Where's Gibbs? Where's Tony? Don't you _know_ what's going to happen? The demon's going to kill the angel! Gibbs is going to kill Tony!"

"Abby..." Ziva began, but Tim took over. He seized Abby's arms. "Abs... what do you know? How did you know to come here?"

"I didn't," Abby said dismissively. "I just got in my car... I know about the hallucinogen..."

"Hallucinogen?" three voices asked at once.

"I tested the blood... it's bad, it's very very bad..."

They all piled into the one car, and Ziva took off down the four blocks to the park in a move worthy of Gibbs himself.

NCISNCISNCIS

Damn... damn , damn, damn... I should have realised... damn, it hurts... formic acid, right? He ran, stumbling, doubled up and clutching his chest. He couldn't clutch his back as well, or his arms, or his left side, from elbow to knee.

He'd tried to stay out of the range of those claws when Gibbs had jumped at him, but the other man had flailed and slashed without any visible plan of attack, but deadly results. Tony had finally ducked under the wild arms, and pushed him hard in the chest. Gibbs had stumbled to his knees, grunting like a bear, and with the only alternative being to pull his gun and shoot the Boss he cared for more than anyone else on this Earth, Tony had run.

Only half of a good idea... Gibbs was weakened by loss of blood, but driven by the fire in his veins. Tony was having to get used to, and deal with somehow, the most awful, acid-burning pain all over his body, and the knowledge that now he was losing more of the red stuff than he could spare. Not to mention that as he threaded in and out of the copse of trees behind the cafe, his white shirt – the bits of it that weren't red of course – made him more visible to Gibbs than Gibbs was to _him_. He tried to tear it off as he ran, but his left hand wasn't working too well, and he didn't seem to have much strength in his right either. Great. Was that in Abby's dream? Angel's wings don't work so well? Why was he being so damn flippant?

In the dream... he was too light-headed to think... In the dream, the demon caught up with the angel in the woods – OK then, time to _break_ the dream. He couldn't see Gibbs, but he could sure hear him... if he survived this that animal rasping would haunt his nightmares for the rest of his life. He began to circle back towards the light, to lead his demon-Boss out of the trees to where he could see him; where hopefully Tim and Ziva – where the hell were they... didn't they know how bad the situation was? Well, no, they didn't. They didn't know about the dream. Would they believe it? Did he? Damn it, he was _in_ it!

Tim and Ziva... yes, that was it, get where they could see what was going on. Back into the light... c'mon, Boss, back into the light...

The demon could see its quarry clearly among the trees. Success was nearly in its grasp. The angel was weakening... blood-splashed... it had only been in the demon's clutches for moments, but that had been enough to hurt it... to bring it down... Maybe killing it would put an end to its own pain... end the light that tore at its eyes, end the fire that burned it. The light... no... no! The demon howled in fury; the angel was leading it back towards the light. It weaved its head from side to side... there was something... it didn't need to fight... No, anything that came from the light was bad. But to kill it, it had to go into the light.

Tony thought he could hear voices in the distance. They were too far away, they wouldn't reach them in time. His knees gave way, and the next thing he knew he was lying on the ground, between the demon and its lair, although he didn't know it, looking up at the security light burning impossibly high above him. Gibbs was only twenty feet or so away now, reeling, but standing upright, mad eyes on him.

No, Boss... Of all the ways he'd imagined dying, how could he ever have thought of this? Gibbs took a few more steps towards him.

"No, Boss... please... not you."

The angel's sad voice had words the demon understood. Somewhere, it knew _something._.. it frowned, and again its head weaved uneasily as it staggered closer. The angel had a face... angels didn't have faces, they were just part of the light. He fell to his knees... the angel was speaking to him, and he knew something... he knew him... he groaned and reached up towards his own face.

Tony saw his Boss's struggle, heard the anguished moan, and saw his hands go up. If they got to his face they'd rip his eyes out. Was that what he was trying to _do_? The younger man, who couldn't have got up to save his own life a moment ago, was on his feet with a yell in an instant, and throwing himself across the distance between them, reaching for the strapped wrists below the claws.

Gibbs started to fight; Tony didn't know whether that was the drug-demon, or simply because Gibbs would, being Gibbs... It didn't matter. He pushed the other man's arms down, using the weight of his whole body, driving the claws down into the grass beneath them; nothing was going to make him move. One of the thumb claws went into his shoulder, with its accompanying fire; he didn't care. He'd stay there for all eternity if he had to.

Gibbs went limp underneath him, but still he hung on.

"Di...DiNozzo... you can... stop..."

"Boss...?"

Unbelievably relieved to hear coherent words instead of the dreadful beast noises, Tony almost forgot, as he slumped away from Gibbs' prone form, to keep pushing his hands down. The spike slid out of his shoulder and he sat up a little – and Gibbs began to stir. "No... Boss... wait. Don't move... Got to get these freakin' bastard things off you..." He began to pull at the straps with ineffectual fingers.

"Tony... just rest... I... won't move." He groaned. "Burns..."

The younger man fell back again, and lay looking across at his Boss. "Yeah... acid, remember?"

"You too?"

"Oh yeah. Hurts..."

Gibbs looked at Tony's right shoulder. "Stabbed you..."

"Seen yourself lately? B-boss... let me -"

"Let me do that, Tony." McGee loomed above them, his Rule Nine glittering in the lamp light. As he sawed at the straps, Abby knelt beside him, eyes wide, but silent and absolutely in control; tugging the claws off by wrapping the cuffs of her velvet jacket round them.

Gibbs sighed with relief. "Look out for... DiNozzo..."

Ziva's voice said, calmly enough, "I will go and open the gates for the ambulance." The edge to her tone suggested that if the stupid things put up any resistance, she'd shoot the lock to pieces.

NCISNCISNCIS

When they'd thanked Tim later, all three had been a little embarrassed; Tim for having stripped their acid soaked clothes off, and doused them with a watering can he found by the sheds; Gibbs, not so much really, he didn't give a damn about being naked, except maybe in front of Abby – Tony, hell yes, at being stark naked in front of Kath...

It was really only the thought; all he'd remembered was being carefully covered with McGee's warm jacket, then the EMTs arriving, and then really not much else.

They'd had two teams working on them, dealing with the acid, replacing lost blood and deciding which wounds needed micro-stitching, glueing, or being left to heal by themselves. Tony woke eighteen hours later to find he could hardly move either arm, for a patched up right shoulder and a broken left radius..._ again_.

He'd immediately looked across the room. "Jethro's _fine,_ Tony. He'll come round when he's ready," Ducky had reassured him, and Gibbs had woken slightly later, mightily displeased, in Ducky's words, to find he was confined to bed except for _escorted_ trips across to the bathroom. "You need physiotherapy for those damaged thigh muscles, Jethro, and they have to be taken gently to make sure your stitches don't tear."

They'd asked about the case... Casilas was desperately putting all the blame on Winters; his attorney was suggesting he was easily led and dominated by a friend. The psychiatrist agreed up to a point, but said he'd still been aware what he was doing. It was a shame, he added, that he'd be the only one to stand trial; Winters was becoming more cuckoo with every passing hour, insisting that he was a demon, and no prison could hold him.

They'd all sat and discussed Abby's dream, and come to no conclusions. Afterwards, Tim had hugged her in the corridor outside and told her maybe she _was_ psychic, how had the details been so accurate, and how had she known where to drive to? She didn't know, she didn't care. All she knew was, she'd spent Halloween night at the hospital, and not wanted to be anywhere else.

They were finally left in peace, as the door closed behind Ziva, who was the last to leave and had actually kissed them both on the forehead. They looked at each other.

"Guess we must have nearly died, Boss..." He waited. _Just give me a normal response, Boss, please?_

"Ya think, DiNozzo?" Tony grinned, and lay back, eyes half shut, until Gibbs rumbled again, "So... an_ angel_? How'd Abby come up with a thing like that?"

"No possible idea, Boss..."

"Hmph. You're supposed to ask why she came up with a demon for me..."

Tony chuckled. "Happy Halloween, Boss."

"That was _last_ night, DiNozzo."

"Oh..."

The End


End file.
